


i'll dress nice, i'll look good, i'll go dancing alone

by HopeNight



Series: a fistful of glitter in the air [1]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Gen, Genderswap, Rule 63, rule63!Casey Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeNight/pseuds/HopeNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knew exactly why she painted her lips red. </p><p>In which some backstory is given. Casey needs a tutor and April O'Neil fits the bill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll dress nice, i'll look good, i'll go dancing alone

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from P!nk's "Blow Me (One Last Kiss)". This is my first Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fic. I wanted to keep Casey...Casey-ish while adding my own spin to the character. Hopefully it's not godawful.

No one ever knew what to make of the red lips.

Oh sure, stories have been told about them. The red lips appeared shortly after she entered the eighth grade, much to the chagrin of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart.

She was still a blonde then, long blonde hair like her mother’s. Everyday she was sent to the bathroom to wipe the red off her lips, yet it always appeared back there the next time they seemed to look.

It was like the red had found a home on her mouth and it wasn’t leaving.

It mocked the nuns. They said that red was not a color becoming of a young girl, that a clean face meant a clean heart. She just had to laugh because she knew the girls with clean faces were planning on doing dirtier things then she was. At least she was honest with her made-up face about who she was.

Kind of. She was never that good at that fancy talking metaphor stuff, despite being in private school for eight years.

Besides she thought that “clean face, clean heart” rule was pure bullshit anyway. 

A lot of notes were sent home with her during that time, but her dad never could bring himself to tell her to stop. In those days, he couldn’t bring himself to do a lot of things.

Everyone just thought that her red lips were a sign of her own rebellion and hurt. She was pretty sure that’s what the dumbass counselor thought at least. She hated seeing that quack and was glad when her dad said she didn’t have to anymore.

So she painted her lips red and made sure her sister got to where she needed to go. And she fought with scraped knuckles in alleyways still in her checked skirt from Sacred Heart. She fought on the ice, graceful under the bulk of equipment with dirty fight tactics. She would watch the red from a well placed punch spill on the white of the ice.

Those boys would see her lips painted red around her mouth guard and her eyes cold as ice on the rink before she struck.

They thought her lips were red because it was the color of blood. Like she was reborn from a warrior queen from the history books who would bath in the blood of her enemies on top of the mountain of skulls of her assassins and bring the wrath of her sword down before you. Admittedly, this was a pretty cool idea and one she gleefully encouraged. It wasn’t the right answer though.

She left Sisters of the Sacred Heart after eighth grade finish. She went to public school instead. Where she threatened a lawsuit to the school if they didn’t let her play on the boy’s ice hockey team. Her blonde hair was gone by them, chopped short and dyed dark the night before the first day of classes. 

For as big of a fuss they all kicked up, they didn’t seem to care so much once she started winning them games. Course, no one liked about the amount of time she spent in the penalty box, but if knocking in a few teeth established her dominance then she was happy to do it.

She only told one person why she wore her red lipstick. She and Nick, they shared everything, it seemed silly not to share it with him. And even when they just…stopped. He still kept it to himself. Another secret to add to his own collection of them that clung to him like the smoke of his favorite clove cigarettes.

“You don’t seem the kind of girl to wear red lipstick,” he said at first, walking out of practice together. It was still those early days when their friendship was new and awkward. Both of them would be damp from showers. There was always a fresh coat of red covering her lips.

She would grin at him wickedly, “S’part of the reason why I got ‘em, Nick.”

And they would laugh before delving into a comfortable silence.

Course after it happened…well those things didn’t happen for her again.

She told herself that was okay. People just stop sometimes. It was a good lesson about the way the world works. Still without the tutoring he was giving her then he grades took a downturn. She was held back a grade. Her father had her transfer schools and she felt so stupid.

She hated feeling stupid. She hated him for making her feel that way. She hated herself for letting it happen.

She hated people she let in because they always kept leaving her. Her dad had a new girlfriend, some woman who smelled of perfume and wear nylons with seams up the back. Her sister had new friends, who didn’t like her weird older sister hanging around.

She was alone. It wasn’t the end of the world.

She wasn’t the kind of girl to a let freaking guy mess her up. She just wasn’t. Boys come and go, but she couldn’t wallow in herself forever. So she showed up at the new school, played up the reputation of the tough girl, and kept everyone away from her. She made the hockey team but the coach was clear that he grades could not go down the tank again.

“I’m given you a chance ‘cause you’re the best damn shot in the city. Don’t let me down,” said the man sternly.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sir,” she said before smiling with those bright red lips. It felt more like a baring of her teeth like an animal.

She’s not dumb. It’s something that she needs to state. School just isn’t something she’s all that interested in. She pulls decent grades in science and creative writing based on liking the subject matter. She gets glowing remarks from her shop and art teachers because she’s good with her hands.

It’s just her and Trig, man. She and Trig do not get along. First, she had Trig’s evil little sister called Geometry. Geometry was just full of not good times.

Proofs…she shudders thinking about proofs. Why does she have to explain the work if she knows how to get the right answer? It’s total bullshit.

She considers her problem as she rubs her middle finger on her lipstick and then dabs it onto her lips. There’s a science to red lips here people. She may not be into a lot of this girly stuff. She doesn’t wear dresses and has chucked out every skirt she owned after she left the Sisters. But she knows how to get her lips the way she likes them.

As she eyes her handiwork, she admits to herself that she is going to have to get a peer tutor.

She’s also pretty sure that all of the peer tutors are terrified of her because…of reasons. She has no freaking cool. She doesn’t talk to anyone and usually ends up hitting people with her pucks on accident.

…

Okay so _that’s_ probably why all the peer tutors are scared of her. Still she consults the list carefully to find someone who will tutor her.

And only one name seems to stick out, April O’Neil.

She hasn't been at this school long but yeah, she had already heard of O'Neil. Her family life had caused quite a stir around this place.

Disappeared dad, dead mom, lives with her aunt. She’s popular but a bit distant. 

But she’s her best hope. 

April O’Neil took a deep steadying breath before opening her locker. It never hurt to have a little pep talk.

(Even if she was feeling achingly lonely and boiling with rage over what her…the _turtles_ did to her father. She is not going to think about the five hundred times over the time apart from them that she alternated between nearly turning on her Tphone and throwing it against the wall. She is not going to think about it because it elads to anger and loneliness and she is just done with all of this okay? Done.)

April shook her head and took another breath. Yes. She needed to give herself a pep talk.

“Okay April. This is a fresh start. Just…just pretend that you’re normal. Don’t think about aliens from another dimension, robotic ninjas, mutated dads, or…turtles. Don’t think about turtles.”

“Hey lookit here fellas! It’s Weird O’Neil.”

Oh… _sewerapples_. DAMMIT! Now she was thinking about turtles!

“Hey Travis,” she said through gritted teeth.

Some people you just have the misfortune of going through school with. Travis Conners was definitely one of those people. He and April had been in class together since Kindergarten and April would be hard-pressed to say that he had gotten any smarter in the interim.

Still he was six foot six, built like a brick wall, and was meaner then a hellhound, April knew that this was probably not going to end well.

“So Weird O’Neil I heard that your daddy up and left you again. Guess even science geeks like him know to keep away from dorks like you.”

Oh April saw red in that moment.

She was just about to sock him in the jaw when she head a slap of something and then the thud of Travis’ body as his knees went out from under him.

April went from seeing red to being confused in three seconds flat. Especially at the hockey puck next to Travis’ shocked form.

“Ya know Travis. I thought your mom raised you better then that,” said a new voice.

April turned eye to the new person involved in the conflict. 

A girl, about the height of Donatello and just as leanly muscled, stood at the end of the hallway. Her hair was short, black, and in a choppy messy cut of someone who went after it with scissors on their own. She wore old boots, ripped jeans, a black t-shirt over a light grey shirt, and a hooded vest. Around her wrist was a tied black bandana with skulls on it.

Her body language seemed opened and friendly with a hockey stick casually slung across her shoulders. Her red lips, the only color besides black or grey on her body, were pulled into a faux friendly smile that showed way too much teeth. Her eyes, though, were ice cold.

She had heard what Travis said to April, and she was not happy at all.

“What the hell do you want, you hockey freak?” snarled Travis as he stumbled back up.

The girl tutted and wagged her finger at him mockingly, “Bad dog. Don’t make me have you heel. Ain’t no one tell you that you shouldn’t call a lady names?”

“You’re not lady.”

“Oh! Good! Now that we agreed on that,” the girl brought down the hockey stick and took out another puck, “I can give you a concussion a lot easier. You know how fast I can hit one of these babies? Faster then you can move, Travis. And let’s be honest here, your brain can’t afford to take another hit in terms of thinkin’ power. Now you apologize and run along.”

Travis seemed to grasp exactly what the girl was saying and scrambled up on his feet. He muttered a half-assed apology to April before taking off down the hallway, turning the corner before the girl could hit him in the back with a puck again.

“Tch. Coward,” snorted the girl. She picked up both pucks and slid them into her messenger bag. “You alright, Red?”

It took April a second longer then she would have like to realize the strange girl was speaking to her.

“I had it under control,” she said defensively.

The taller girl blinked in surprised and smiled, showing off a missing canine in her grin.

“‘Course you did, Red,” said the girl seriously like she honestly believed April had it under control, “I was just looking for an excuse to practice my slap shot.”

For some reason, this simple faith flustered April a bit as she held her textbook closer, “Yes well. Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

The girl shrugged and looked at her carefully, “So you’re April O’Neil, huh?”

“Yes…?”

“Awesome. You’re doing peer tutorin’ right? ‘Cause I need one for Trig. I’m kind of failing and Coach says I need to keep my grades up if I want to keep on the team,” explained the girl simply.

She then wickedly smirked with a teasing light in her eyes, “And all of the other peer tutors are kind of put off by my sheer awesomeness.”

April, despite herself, let out a small giggle. Shaking off her last vestiges of rage at the girl’s expression and tone.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll help you. You know the park near Antonio’s pizzeria?”

“Real Antonio’s, Authentic Antonio’s, or just Antonio’s?”

“Just Antonio’s. Meet me there at seven. I like to study out there when the weather is nice.”

“S’date then, Red,” said the girl placing the hockey stick between her shoulders and wrapping her arms around it. She smiled again, “You headin’ to Trig now? I’ll walk ya there and we can tell Miss H what’s up.”

“Oh! Sure thanks,” said April, quickly double-checking her books and notebooks in her arms.

The two of them took off the hall. The girl hummed slightly under her breath.

“What’s your name anyway?” asked April, realizing that her name was never spoken in the confrontation or their conversation.

The girl’s red lips twitched upwards into a smile, “Name’s Casey Jones, Red, and don’t you forget it.”

Funnily enough, April had the odd feeling that she wasn’t going to anytime soon.


End file.
